Isaack looked at his reflection in the monitor; he fixed his hair, now almost seeming to be turned dirty. His reddish-blonde hair had turned brown, most definitely because of the mixture of sand and dirt that was inside of it. Even though he washed his hair often, just being outside on the beach and being in the Amazon almost instantly made his hair dirty. It was almost like he could not get away from the filth of the planet. Everywhere he went, he felt like this planet that Peyton called “Earth” was stuck with him; and in the same way, he was stuck with Earth. Isaack’s hair, as mentioned before, was disheveled and messed up—it was not the way he used to have it. When he used to have his old life, he ensured that his body was clean and that he was proper looking; now, as he if he was conforming the more savage and “improper” life of the planet, he did not care about how he presented himself—no one else would see him, so to him, it made no difference if he made certain he was proper looking. If he was unkempt, who would see him? And at that, if he was clean and if he was an example of the idea of “a respectable man” or “a respectable woman”, who would see him? Who would care to consult him about it? The planet that he was trapped on held no other prisoners; no one else shared the same home as him, which meant that no one would care and no one would see him.

This idea that there was no reason to keep himself clean, neat, or tidy lingered in the back of his mind; it almost constantly ate away at his consciousness. Was there a reason as to why he would need to reassure himself that he was presentable to another human being if he never would meet another human being for the rest of his life? The idea that there was no reason to “try” anymore continued to almost stop his progression in making his life easier by creating new technologies or tools.

All of this was, to say the least, bothersome. It was bothersome that all of these things were constantly lingering in his mind—they interfered with his thoughts and how he conducted himself, even if no one else were to see it.

Knowing that Peyton could not see him, he continued to stare into his reflection. His face, much like his hair, was dirtied; stains of soot and mud riddled his complexion. Isaack noticed the camera that Peyton used to see him—like the computer that it was a part of, it was aged. The lens was slightly warped, for the glass had slowly moved over time, eventually making a texture that the sands of deserts would have. It was, to say the least, an old piece of technology—to be quite frank, the entire setup—including the monitor, the built-in camera, and the motherboard—were very old, and they had seen so many years before then. To Isaack, the monitor and computer seemed to be such ancient technology; he was used to technology that was extremely advanced. He was accustomed to technology where he could go from one solar system to another in under a few minutes—although, the amount of time it took for this distance to be traveled depended on the ship that was used to travel the distance—and technology that could calculate extremely long equations that contained complex variables and things of that sort in a matter of seconds, or possibly even milliseconds. It was like if a man had a computer and a club; the idea of a computer is far more advanced than the idea of a club, and what is even more advanced is having a computer constructed and functioning.

Isaack left his hut and went to the edge of the beach. He stepped into the salty waters; he could feel the soft waves going up against his ankles and feet. Thinking about what had just happened and what he thought about in his home, he looked into the ocean, watching the white foam that laid atop the water. The sight of the slow waves with the sun above them calmed him. He felt calm once again.

He continued to watch the ocean, observing how it went towards the beach, and then almost seemed to recoil from it, going back and forth continuously. After contemplating over the beautiful sea, he sat down in the warm sands and brought his knees up to his chest; his feet got touched by the tide, and he could feel the cold seawater between his toes. Isaack looked up into the sky—wispy clouds went overhead, along with small gulls that blew his soft hair back. To Isaack, it was an enriching experience; he felt at peace from all of the things that were around him, as the sounds of the sea and the distant noises that came from the Amazon worked together to make a sort of symphony of the music of nature that was pleasing to his ears. The sands underneath him began to shift, as his weight put enough pressure on them to cause them to move about. Although he was not heavy in any sense, it does not take much to move a minute quantity of sand, let alone a singular grain of it.

Once he finished spending time next to the waters, he decided that it would be best for him to bathe himself. He had no sort of cleaner to use on his body to get rid of the grime and dirt that he was covered in, but he did have the power of his own manual scrubbing from his hands and the abundance of water in front of him. Isaack worked the water through his hair and rubbed himself down with his hands, attempting to get rid of anything that was on his body that was not supposed to be there. He stood, looking off into the horizon.

As it was mentioned before, Isaack was at peace; all of the worries that once plagued him for the time being had drifted away, almost like the ocean’s waters washed them away, making him feel pure. Isaack felt clean, and he felt cleaner than he had ever felt before—he even felt cleaner than the times that he bathed in highly technological washrooms, where the water automatically chose what temperature it would be set to and the soap was so highly concentrated that it only took a few drops to be able to clean oneself. The distant calls of tropical birds that he had not seen very often could be heard; they were the types of birds that might flaunt their vibrantly colored feathers, which reflected the light of the Sun so easily. Their chromatic color schemes fit in perfectly with the rest of the diverse world known as Earth.

The Sun, now about to seemingly touch the water, sent its final rays of light for the day on Isaack’s face—it was warm, and it made him feel content inside. He was pleased with Earth, even though many times he disliked it, for in some ways it was a paradise, while in others it was a prison for him. Isaack was able to understand that he was calmer on Earth than he ever was on any other planet or in any other world; it was almost like he found clarity in the world that was now around him instead of the worlds that he used to be in.

Isaack returned to his home once the Sun set, and the Sun went through the normal phases of a sunset that it always did, but to Isaack, even though he had seen the Sun do that same thing many times before, it was beautiful. That seemed to be the only way that Isaack could describe it. The Sun, albeit it a burning inferno that gave life to everything, was also able to take away life in an instant; but to Isaack, it was beautiful. The environment that was balanced almost perfectly that took root upon Earth was, in many ways, very hazardous, as the creatures that lived upon it were strong, and at times they were vicious when they needed to be; but to Isaack, it was beautiful. All of it was beautiful to Isaack.